Part 36 (1/2)

”Your memory is not quite accurate,” said Horace. ”You bought it last night from a man of the name of Rapkin, who lets lodgings in Vincent Square, and you paid exactly half a crown for it.”

”If you say so I dare say it's correct, sir,” said Mr. Dilger, without exhibiting the least confusion. ”And if I did buy it off Mr. Rapkin, he's a respectable party, and ain't likely to have come by it dishonest.”

”I never said he did. What will you take for the thing?”

”Well, just look at the work in it. They don't turn out the like o' that nowadays. Dutch, that is; what they used for to put their milk and such-like in.”

”d.a.m.n it!” said Horace, completely losing his temper. ”_I_ know what it was used for. _Will_ you tell me what you want for it?”

”I couldn't let a curiosity like that go a penny under thirty s.h.i.+llings,” said Mr. Dilger, affectionately. ”It would be robbin'

myself.”

”I'll give you a sovereign for it--there,” said Horace. ”You know best what profit that represents. That's my last word.”

”_My_ last word to that, sir, is good hevenin',” said the worthy man.

”Good evening, then,” said Horace, and walked out of the shop; rather to bring Mr. Dilger to terms than because he really meant to abandon the bottle, for he dared not go back without it, and he had nothing about him just then on which he could raise the extra ten s.h.i.+llings, supposing the dealer refused to trust him for the balance--and the time was growing dangerously short.

Fortunately the well-worn ruse succeeded, for Mr. Dilger ran out after him and laid an unwashed claw upon his coat-sleeve. ”Don't go, mister,”

he said; ”I like to do business if I can; though, 'pon my word and honour, a sovereign for a work o' art like that! Well, just for luck and bein' my birthday, we'll call it a deal.”

Horace handed over the coin, which left him with a few pence. ”There ought to be a lid or stopper of some sort,” he said suddenly. ”What have you done with that?”

”No, sir, there you're mistook, you are, indeed. I do a.s.sure you you never see a pot of this partickler pattern with a lid to it. Never!”

”Oh, don't you, though?” said Horace. ”I know better. Never mind,” he said, as he recollected that the seal was in Fakrash's possession. ”I'll take it as it is. Don't trouble to wrap it up. I'm in rather a hurry.”

It was almost dark when he got back to his rooms, where he found the Jinnee shaking with mingled rage and apprehension.

”No welcome to thee!” he cried. ”Dilatory dog that thou art! Hadst thou delayed another minute, I would have called down some calamity upon thee.”

”Well, you need not trouble yourself to do that now,” returned Ventimore. ”Here's your bottle, and you can creep into it as soon as you please.”

”But the seal!” shrieked the Jinnee. ”What hast thou done with the seal which was upon the bottle?”

”Why, you've got it yourself, of course,” said Horace, ”in one of your pockets.”

”O thou of base antecedents!” howled Fakrash, shaking out his flowing draperies. ”How should _I_ have the seal? This is but a fresh device of thine to undo me!”

”Don't talk rubbis.h.!.+” retorted Horace. ”You made the Professor give it up to you yesterday. You must have lost it somewhere or other. Never mind! I'll get a large cork or bung, which will do just as well. And I've lots of sealing-wax.”

”I will have no seal but the seal of Suleyman!” declared the Jinnee.

”For with no other will there be security. Verily I believe that that accursed sage, thy friend, hath contrived by some cunning to get the seal once more into his hands. I will go at once to his abode and compel him to restore it.”

”I wouldn't,” said Horace, feeling extremely uneasy, for it was evidently a much simpler thing to let a Jinnee out of a bottle than to get him in again. ”He's quite incapable of taking it. And if you go out now you'll only make a fuss and attract the attention of the Press, which I thought you rather wanted to avoid.”

”I shall attire myself in the garments of a mortal--even those I a.s.sumed on a former occasion,” said Fakrash, and as he spoke his outer robes modernised into a frock-coat. ”Thus shall I escape attention.”

”Wait one moment,” said Horace. ”What is that bulge in your breast-pocket?”